The Sixth Time
by likecominghome
Summary: The first five times Lydia kisses Stiles, she does so because the situation demanded it. The sixth time, she just wanted to.


He was having a panic attack.

Not that she blamed him. Finding out your friend's father had been taken by a dark druid in her quest to complete a series of human sacrifices was pretty traumatic news. Adding this to the fact that his own father had also been taken, it was enough to make anyone lose it a little.

This was Stiles, though.

He was the one who always seemed to have a plan; who was always searching for the answer. So to see him hyperventilating in the middle of the hallway with a look of utter hopelessness in his eyes was both alarming and heartbreaking.

Deciding she needed to take action, she pulled him out of the crowded hallway into a nearby locker room, where they both fell to the floor.

"Think about something else," she urged, hoping to distract him long enough to slow his breathing.

"Like what?" he asked, his eyes filling with panicked pain.

That was a good question.

"Happy things," she spat out, "Good things. Friends, family."

Despite being in the midst of hyperventilating, he shot her a confused, questioning glare and she immediately realized her mistake.

"I mean, not family," she winced at her stupidity, "Oh, god. Just try and slow your breathing."

Listening to her, he breathed in heavily, but it came out staggered and the helplessness in his eyes doubled. "I-I can't."

She racked her brain, silently sifting through the advice given in various medical articles she had read regarding how to best stop panic attacks.

Getting to her knees, she cupped his cheeks in her hands and directed his gaze. "Shhh, Stiles, look at me. Look at me."

The confusion in his eyes was still evident, but he did as she asked and before he could comment, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

Honestly, she had no idea if it would actually work, but she figured kissing him would take his mind off things long enough to cause his heart rate and breathing to return to semi normal. As she hoped, she felt his breathing slow and stop altogether.

What she didn't expect was to feel him return the pressure. Or to feel her own breathing hitch.

She kept her eyes closed for a moment when they pulled apart, not quite ready to see his reaction. His breathing had slowed, though, and she felt a weight of relief lift from her shoulders as her eyelids fluttered open and her gaze met his.

He still look confused, which was fair because the last thing he was probably expecting was for her to kiss him.

"How'd you do that?" he asked, referring to the fact that he was no longer hyperventilating. His gaze was as direct as ever and it was a little unnerving.

"I read once," she spoke slowly and softly, "that holding your breath can stop a panic attack. So when I kissed you…you held your breath."

"I did?" he tilted his head to the side, his eyes staying locked on hers, causing her heart rate to spike.

She nodded, lifting her lips into a small smile. "You did."

There was a pause and she began to wonder why, when faced with the task of distracting Stiles, her first instinct was to kiss him. She'd never felt the urge to do so before.

Stiles was…Stiles. He had always been there; the boy in the back of all her classes who never seemed to be paying attention, yet always seemed to come up with an answer. Up until a couple months ago, she hadn't really given him a second thought.

But as they delved into the world of the supernatural and discovered the mysteries behind the dangers in Beacon Hills, the sleepy town where nothing ever happened, they had become unlikely friends. Six months prior, she probably never would have thought to call Stiles when she had a feeling something bad was happening, but now he was in her speed dial for exactly that reason.

Stiles had become her rock and perhaps she felt as though it was time to return the favor.

"Thanks," he half whispered. "That was really smart."

Smart.

There it was, the word he'd used to describe her back when she barely considered him an acquaintance.

_I'm the only one who knows how smart you really are. _

Apparently his insights were still relevant.

And as much as she was completely comfortable with her sexuality, it was nice to be recognized for her brain every now and again.

Still, she wasn't comfortable receiving compliments on her intelligence from Stiles, so she shrugged as he shifted his legs into a more comfortable position. "It's just something I read once. If I was really smart, I'd tell you to sign up for a few sessions with the guidance counselor."

He laughed awkwardly and she appreciated that she wasn't the only one not at all in control of the situation. Their complete lack of knowledge at how to handle their current circumstances was short lived, though, because Lydia's comment about the guidance counselor seemed to spark some sort of epiphany in Stiles.

Before she knew it, he was pulling her out of the locker room and down the hall and she decided that she would dwell on the kiss at a more appropriate time.

…

Coming to the pier was Scott's idea.

It was supposed to a distraction; one night where they could relax and just enjoy themselves and forget about the tragedy and drama and horrors of the past few months.

Lydia had agreed because she definitely needed a break and Stiles had agreed because…it was Scott's idea.

Thus, she had ended up standing in line for cotton candy. She wasn't really a fan, to be honest. It was too sticky and sweet, but Stiles was excited beyond belief and after everything he'd been through recently – after everything they'd all been through – she couldn't bring herself to deny him the simple pleasures.

Scott and Kira were off being sickeningly cute somewhere, so she and Stiles were hanging out as well.

It wasn't really unusual anymore, spending time with Stiles. They'd become quite good friends and in the moment where she'd watched him on the brink of sacrificing himself to save everyone else, so realized that she wasn't exactly sure what she would do without him.

Holding in a laugh, she watched his eyes light up as the cotton candy spun in the machine. He swiped his tongue across his top lip in anticipation, grinning widely when he was handed the blue fluff on a stick.

"You want some?" he asked, his voice muffled as a result of shoving a large handful in his mouth.

She shook her head as they turned to walk the grounds. "I'm good. What do you want to do?"

He chewed thoughtfully as he craned his neck and looked around. The pier had the usual attractions: Ferris wheel, water gun games, ring tosses, and a carousel. She'd been itching to go on the Ferris wheel all night, but Stiles had been completely avoiding suggesting it, so she was starting to think he had some sort of objection to heights.

Shrugging, he continued to pick off pieces of his cotton candy and shove it in his mouth and she found herself chewing on her bottom lip as she watched his tongue wet his lips before they pursed. It was strangely fascinating and alarmingly arousing to watch his lips move and she didn't quite want to dwell on what that meant at the moment, so she grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the ride she wanted.

He didn't protest, probably because he had no idea what was happening until they were actually standing in line.

Wincing, he tossed his now empty cotton candy stick into a nearby trash can and shifted his weight between his feet. "Are you sure you wanna go up there?"

She nodded. "Yep. I love the view from the top."

He parted his lips as though to object, but pressed together without saying anything. Satisfied, she smiled and thanked the ride attendant as they slipped into the narrow plastic seat.

Stiles's fingers tightened around the edge of his seat as the wheel began to move and as the bird's eye view became more clear, she started to feel guilty. Maybe it was wrong to give him no option in the matter.

"I'm not the biggest fan of heights," he admitted, his voice shaky.

He was starting to look a little squeamish and she felt a knot of sympathy in her stomach as she spoke words that he'd heard her say before.

"Stiles, look at me."

His head turned slowly, his entire body shaking just slightly, and his breathing a little erratic. Doing as he was told, he made eye contact with her, silently waiting for more instructions.

She wasn't sure what possessed her to do what she did, but at the time it seemed like the most sensible and direct way to diver his attention.

So she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, once again feeling him hold his breath as they kissed.

It lasted for a total of ten seconds and she was happy to note that he was calmer when they pulled apart.

"What was that for?" he blinked.

She shrugged, turning to look out at pier and ocean below, partly because she enjoyed the pretty lights and partly because she didn't want him to see her flushing cheeks. "Just taking your mind off things."

He didn't say anything, but she could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face.

"Come on," she instructed, wiggling to sit up straighter in her seat. "You're missing the view."

He probably thought he was whispering, but she actually heard every word he said.

"Actually, I think I have the perfect view."

If Stiles was a werewolf, he'd have heard her heart rate speed up.

…

The atmosphere was electric.

Every single person was on their feet, keeping their eyes glued to the field as the clock counted down the last thirty seconds of the game.

Due to the illness of another player, Stiles had been temporarily promoted to first line, which of course meant that Lydia was in the stands, screaming her head off as she watched him play.

He was the passed the ball and immediately froze and she held her breath as she watched him mentally freak out about what to do before turning on his heel and sprinting towards the opponent's net. It seemed like the ball soared through the air in slow motion and as soon as is hit the back of the net, the crowd erupted into victory cheers, hers being one of the loudest.

The audience rushed the field because this was the first game they'd won all season and she joined them because the camaraderie made her feel warm.

Stiles was being patted on the back and congratulated by his teammates and classmates alike and she somehow got pushed into the center of the mob and ended up slamming into his back. He turned suddenly, almost hitting her with the helmet clutched in his hand, but smiled widely when he realized who she was.

"Hey Lydia!" he grinned excitedly, "We won!"

It was a pretty obvious statement, but she could tell he was ecstatic beyond belief. Of course, he deserved a congratulations, but simply saying the words didn't seem to be enough.

So she took a deep breath, squished his cheeks between her palms and kissed him sweetly on the lips. It was incredibly short, but he seemed to understand the sentiment and blushed profusely when she pulled away.

"Congratulations," she yelled over the crowd. "You were amazing."

Before he could say anything else, she waved goodbye and pushed her way out of the crowd. They would both fall asleep happy that night.

…

Scott truly was a romantic at heart.

Lydia wasn't at all surprised that he'd suggested an ugly sweater holiday party; alcohol and an assortment of baked goods was always soothing for the soul. She supposed she also shouldn't have been surprised that he had put mistletoe above every doorway.

Normally, she would probably think it was cute, but factoring in the alcohol meant that couples were using the sprig as an excuse to engage in full on makeout sessions in every single room of Scott's house.

Apparently this didn't exclude the bathroom and she sighed in frustration when she pushed open the door, hoping to find some quiet only to see a couple going at on top of the sink. Letting them have their peace, she searched through every room in the house until she found the only place with no one in it: the pantry.

It wasn't ideal, but once she was inside, she relished in the muting of the outside noise and calmed herself by reading the various food labels. Her solitude didn't last very long, however, because the door opened and Stiles stepped inside, closing himself in.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Hey."

"Hey," he nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth. "What are you doing in here?"

She parted her lips to come up with an excuse before realizing he had no reason to be with her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shot him a pointed look. "What are you doing here?"

His brow furrowed in confusion as though it was completely obvious. "I saw you come in and I was wondering what happened."

Right.

It made sense that he was concerned about her. Stiles had always been the first to ask her if she was alright.

"It's just a little loud," she admitted, dropping her hands from her chest.

"I think that's the point," he laughed. "Besides, you can't hide out in here all night."

"I wasn't going to," she replied defensively. "I just needed a few minutes to regroup."

Nodding, he stayed silent until she could no longer take it and gestured towards the door, indicating that he should open. He did as instructed and she stepped through, pausing to send him a grateful smile because despite his following her being completely unnecessary, she appreciated his concern.

She did, however, forget about the mistletoe.

And in the midst of trying to communicate her gratitude, she ended up practically pressed to Stiles's chest directly beneath that blasted plant.

He didn't notice it at first and shot her a confused glance at her sudden stiffness before looking upwards and freezing as well.

"Um," he cleared his throat, "We don't have to…you know."

Except they did. Because a group of party goers gathered in the kitchen had seen them emerge from the pantry and were already assuming something dirty. At this point, avoiding kissing him beneath the mistletoe would just be ridiculous.

She might as well just give them what they want.

So she stood on her toes and kissed him firmly, once again taking him completely by surprise. And although he returned the pressure, he didn't have time to pull her close before she had rocked back on her heels again.

He gaped at her, probably wondering why surprise kisses seemed to be a recurring theme with them.

She wasn't particularly in the mood to analyze her relationship with Stiles, she sighed, grabbed his hand, and pulled him towards the alcohol, deciding she was in desperate need of a drink.

…

She honestly couldn't think of a better way to spend this night.

Parties were great and fun, but she'd had enough excitement in the past few months to last her a lifetime, so she was glad when Scott suggested the gang just gather at his house and watch the ball drop.

They'd spent the first few hours stuffing their faces with junk food and chatting away, but apparently sugar overload and mythological creatures didn't combine, because the only people who had managed to stay awake were her and Stiles.

She sighed as she surveyed the sleeping figures scattered across the living room. "This is a little pathetic."

Stiles snorted softly. "Yeah, they definitely don't seem threatening now, do they? Taken out by one too many bags of marshmallows."

She shot him a small smile and turned her attention back to the television, where the thirty second countdown to midnight had just begun.

Twisting her fingers together, she chewed on her bottom lip as the numbers on the clock decreased and she decided whether or not she was going to kiss Stiles at midnight.

The thought hadn't really occurred to her when their get together began. But now that they were the only two awake, it almost seemed ridiculous not to do it.

Besides, she'd heard that kissing someone at midnight on New Year's Eve was supposed to bring good luck for the next year. She wasn't particularly superstitious, but after the year she'd had – the year they'd all had – any bit of luck was welcome.

When the clock struck midnight, she went for it.

Leaning over, she grabbed his face in her palms and planted a kiss on his lips. It was brief and sweet and she smiled softly when she pulled away.

"Happy New Year, Stiles," she whispered.

He stared at her, completely dumbfounded before he replied. "Happy New Year, Lydia."

Satisfied and a little flushed, she turned and settled herself into the couch to sleep, the slightest hint of a smile lifting her lips as she drifted off.

…

She was pretty proud of herself for actually going through with it.

For the past week, she spent inordinate amounts of time pacing in her room as she mentally prepared her speech. But at the end of the week, all she'd realized was that she actually had no idea what to say.

There weren't exactly concise words to describe her emotions.

Or maybe she just didn't know what she feeling.

All that could be confirmed was that she'd come to the realization that she enjoyed kissing Stiles.

It wasn't an epiphany that suddenly dawned on her one day. Over the past few times of kissing him because she had to, she had gradually come to realize that she would like to kiss him because she wanted to.

And thus, she found herself outside his bedroom door, waiting for it to open so she could tell him just that.

When the door swung open, she was caught off guard, however, because although he did looked surprised to see her, his first words were, "I'm so glad you're here."

Clearing her throat, she stepped into his room, her heart rate steadily increasing with each passing second. "Oh…really? Why?"

His tongue swiped out to wet his lips and he stared at her for a moment before beginning to pace. Perching herself on the edge of his bed, she watched him do this for a solid five minutes, secretly glad that she wasn't the only one with no control over the situation.

After what seemed like ages, he finally stopped and stared at her, his words coming out soft but firm.

"I want to kiss you all the time."

She blinked, wondering if she was dreaming.

"It's driving me freaking insane," he continued. "I mean, you know I'm always thinking about you, but this is just ridiculous. And although I appreciate the out of the blue kisses, all they do is make me constantly wonder when it's going to happen again and it's making me lose my mind."

She couldn't tell whether that was a good thing or not.

"Ok…" she said slowly. "I'll stop doing that?"

"No!" he replied quickly. "That's not what I meant. I want you to stop kissing me, but I want to kiss you."

That was just even more confusing.

She furrowed her brow. "What does that mean?"

He took a deep breath. "I mean, that you keep catching off guard. And I don't mind being kissed, but we never really talk about it afterwards and I guess I just have no idea what's happening between us."

"Neither do I," she admitted softly.

There was a moment of silence as she watched him internally struggle with what to say next. Figuring she'd save him some misery by confirming her own desires, she piped up.

"I want our kisses to be less surprising and more regular."

His eyebrows shot up and a slow smile stretched his lips. "You do?"

She nodded. "I do."

He took a step forward. "Then will you let me kiss you now?"

Grinning, she nodded excitedly, accepting his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her towards his chest. Once her palms were flat against his t-shirt, he brushed back her hair with hand, cupped the back of her neck, and pulled her in for the most deliciously heart pounding kiss.

This was the first time Stiles had truly kissed her. Sure, he was a participant in their previous lip locks, but he generally didn't realize what was happening until a few seconds in and it took him some time to adjust.

Here, however, he was pouring himself into it entirely and it left her dizzy and melting in his arms when he pulled away.

He stared at her silently and when his eyes confirmed that she felt just as he did, the corners of his lips lifted into a smile. Her heart raced as he leaned in again and she decided that the new year was definitely going to be amazing.


End file.
